


kintsugi

by horchata



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon-Typical Injury, Kitagawa Daiichi, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25051471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horchata/pseuds/horchata
Summary: Tobio notices when people get hurt. Something inside him hums to fix it.The first time’s for Iwaizumi-san.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 16
Kudos: 319





	kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuthorInDistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorInDistress/gifts).



> Thank you very much to [zolarium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zolarium/pseuds/zolarium) and [vorvayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorvayne/pseuds/Vorvayne) for giving this a once-over way back in the when. I've been holding this fic in my hands since 2017 and I am letting its little firefly go.

_Your hands run to spots that feel different._ —Jenny Holzer

The first time, it was for Iwaizumi-san.

He'd stumbled after a spike and fallen hard to catch himself on one hand. He was holding his wrist. Tobio had been practicing spikes with the other first-years, but he'd felt called over at the sharp shout of pain. Tobio had not been getting along with the boys his age on Kitagawa Daiichi's team. He admired Iwaizumi-san very much. He wanted to help. 

Tobio's fingertips buzzed in his palm.

His mother had told him to be careful. Tobio was nothing if not obedient.

"Coach, please allow me to escort Iwaizumi-san to the nurse!"

From next to Iwaizumi-san on the smooth court floor, Oikawa-san smiled ice into Tobio's face. "Such concern, Tobio-chan! I'm sure I can take Iwa-chan myse—"

"Kageyama, go." Both Iwaizumi-san and Oikawa-san's faces whipped to look at Coach. "Oikawa, you are in the middle of tossing for our second-years. Kageyama is not essential to this practice."

There was a pause where Tobio found himself unable to breathe. Either this worked or this didn't. But Oikawa-san, as well, was nothing if not obedient in front of others. Especially with Coach. 

"Yes," Oikawa-san said, standing, glaring. Tobio knew he had earned himself something horrible, but it was worth it—would be worth it, soon. Oikawa-san helped Iwaizumi-san to his feet and whispered something in his ear that made the grimace on Iwaizumi-san's face flicker with a smile before he started walking to the gym door to change his shoes.

Tobio let himself breathe out, relieved, determined, and jogged to change his own shoes and catch up. Iwaizumi-san was walking very fast, and Tobio had to skip a bit as he walked. His fingertips buzzed even more. He rubbed them together and felt them hum and spark. He had to be careful. "Iwaizumi-san, I— can we—"

Iwaizumi-san kept walking. "I want ice for my wrist right now, Kageyama. What is it?"

"Can I— will you let me—" Tobio took a breath and raised his voice. "May I see?"

Iwaizumi-san looked over at Tobio and blinked, stopped suddenly. Something in the way he held his body changed, the way his face moved from stern and focused in pain to a gentler expression, and Tobio noticed. 

"It hurts, but I'm going to be fine, Kageyama." All the same, he held out his forearm. "Look, it's probably just a sprain." 

Tobio inhaled deeply. Be careful. 

He ran his fingertips over Iwaizumi-san's wrist, which had started to pink and swell. As they smoothed over hot skin, Tobio felt the sparking buzz in his body ease away, felt the sick heat of Iwaizumi-san's injury ebb to coolness. He felt the mend of torn sinew underneath. Tobio exhaled, and much of his strength left him. He bent over to catch his hands on his knees. 

He'd done it. 

"Yeah," Tobio said to the ground, limbs heavy, feeling tired but _so good_ , "it looks fine."

Iwaizumi-san said nothing for a while. Bent over still, Tobio watched his shoes and watched his shadow. Watched the image of Iwaizumi-san's wrist move back and forth on the concrete; watched it roll around, its fingers flex; watched Iwaizumi-san bend down to crouch in front of him and pin him with his eyes.

"What did you do?" he asked, and there was fear in his voice.

A thread of cold caught in Tobio's throat as Iwaizumi-san looked at him. He had to be careful. 

Tobio shrugged, even though he didn't feel like this was nothing. "You're right, Iwaizumi-san. You'll be fine," Tobio said. 

Iwaizumi-san's eyes widened, eyebrows scrunching. He reached out and grabbed Tobio's wrist with the hand that had been injured, the wrist that was (Tobio knew) perfect and whole once again. "What did you _do_?" he hissed, urgent; squeezing.

In the light outside, a spiderweb of thin gold lines glinted along Iwaizumi-san's skin. 

"Please, Iwaizumi-san. You'll be fine," Tobio repeated, trying to twist his wrist out of an ace's tight grip. He realized with a hysterical fever that he was not that strong. Tobio started to feel the cold freeze to panic building in his chest. "You'll be fine now!"

Iwaizumi-san stood, and pulled Tobio to stand, too. Tobio's thighs and calves quivered, exhausted; he felt sick. Iwaizumi-san looked at him for a very long time, and Tobio imagined everything his mother told him coming true, everything about needing to leave again, needing to hide, and Iwaizumi-san kept looking. Tobio felt his chin rise, bit the inside of his bottom lip, felt his fists tremble.

All of a sudden, Iwaizumi-san started walking. Bile rose in Tobio's throat, but he couldn't not follow, wrist snug tight in Iwaizumi-san's grip. Iwaizumi-san walked past the school building where the nurse's office was, past the second courtyard and inside again to where the third-years had their shoe lockers. The gold on his wrist dulled almost to invisibility under the fluorescent lights. Iwaizumi-san let go, reached in, pushed his school shoes aside, threw a small bag to the bench. 

From inside came a roll of white elastic bandages, held together with two metal clips. He unhooked the clips and held them up to Tobio wordlessly. Tobio blinked. Tears smudged his vision. The clips shook, impatient. Tobio took the clips.

Iwaizumi-san began wrapping his forearm.

"Thank you for taking me to the nurse," he said. 

Relief pushed all the air out of Tobio’s lungs. 

"I'm glad nothing is sprained," Iwaizumi-san continued, covering up the dull gold, "and that I will get to play again tomorrow."

He locked eyes with Tobio and Tobio held out the clips. Iwaizumi-san hooked the teeth of each clip through the elastic tight along the back of his hand and shut his locker as he walked away, back to the gym. 

" _You_ lost the nurse's note."

"Yes, Iwaizumi-san," Tobio said, and after taking a moment to scrub the tears from his face, hurried to catch up. 

—

_“Tobio. Tobio,” the rap of something sharp and hard against his temple woke him. “Get up.”_

_Tobio’s mother dropped the spoon she hit him with in the sink. Tobio felt a sick ribbon curdle in his chest. Doing the dishes was Tobio’s job. She was very angry; a quiet angry, vicious in the way she clanged and clinked the dishes. All over again Tobio was scared of what he had done, scared of her anger and fear. He sat up, and wiped the spit from the corner of his mouth._

_“Sorry, Mama,” he said._

_She did not respond. She took the big cooking knife and ran her sponge along the length of it, scrubbing at the starch now dried on its blade, left from slicing the potatoes._

_“Sorry,” he repeated, softer._

_“I don’t feel sorry for you,” she told the plate in the sink._

_Tobio bowed his head._

_“I don’t. And I hope,” she spat, poison in her voice, “you’ve picked the right person this time. We cannot keep moving again and again.”_

—

A few days later, Tobio's lunch was interrupted.

"Excuse me, ah — Kageyama. Kageyama?"

Tobio looked up to see Iwaizumi-san standing at the doorway. Fear frosted the inside of Kageyama's ribcage. He felt his body still. Iwaizumi-san nodded. 

"Kageyama, can I speak to you?"

"Yes," Tobio said, and hurriedly shut his bento to walk to the door. 

He followed Iwaizumi-san through the hall, stiff and scared. Tobio kept feeling like he needed to roll his shoulders, to somehow shake off the sensation of something tightening his skin. He tried to keep himself from looking at Iwaizumi-san's wrapped-up wrist. He stared at his shirt, instead.

"Kageyama," Iwaizumi-san said, stopping at a vending machine. "What do you want?"

Tobio looked at Iwaizumi-san. Iwaizumi-san looked back. He raised an eyebrow.

"Milk?" Tobio said.

"Milk," Iwaizumi-san repeated.

Tobio nodded.

"Okay, sure," Iwaizumi-san said, put in his money, and pressed both buttons. One box fell through the slot. He shrugged. "You never know," he said, handing the drink to Tobio.

"Thank you," Tobio said.

Iwaizumi-san leaned against the machine. His face was gentle. "Kageyama, what the fuck happened on Tuesday?"

Tobio coughed, choked on his milk. Some of it came out his nose. Iwaizumi-san pounded hard on his back. Tobio gulped in air and tried to think if he could say something without saying anything again. 

He glanced at Iwaizumi-san with watery eyes, wiped the milky snot on the sleeve of his jacket. He thought of many things. Then, he decided on: "Is it better?"

Iwaizumi-san looked back at Tobio. Tobio looked at him and then the ground. He waited for a long while.

"Does it hurt you?" Iwaizumi-san asked.

Tobio looked up all at once; shook his head, lips pressed together. “No, I. I just get tired.” 

“Could you do it again?”

Tobio’s breath caught in his throat. “Yes,” he whispered.

It was quiet.

"Alright," Iwaizumi-san said, eventually. "I'll take the bandage off in a day."

—

The second time was for Kindaichi. 

Kindaichi was never limber enough for the things he wanted to do. Coach had all the first years working on stretches, but Kindaichi was impatient and lazy. Tobio never thought he did enough work. Even though he'd lived in it his whole life, Kindaichi didn't know his own body well enough, and he was always falling short of what he could have done if he practiced better. Tobio imagined his coach from primary school would be very displeased with Kindaichi. ' _Carelessness never leads to success_ ,' he might have said.

Kindaichi was careless and impatient and lazy, and he landed wrong coming down from a block. Everyone heard the pop of his ankle. 

Kindaichi screamed.

Kunimi was next to him instantly, and Tobio was not far behind. He had no special fondness for his fellow first-years, but he could feel his fingertips buzzing. Iwaizumi-san was nearby, too.

Iwaizumi-san looked at Tobio for just an instant and Tobio nodded, hands rolling easily into fists. His skin hummed.

"Kunimi," Iwaizumi-san said, sliding up underneath Kindaichi's left shoulder, "let's get Kindaichi to the bench." 

His look to Tobio burned. "Kageyama, when he sits, can you get his shoe off?"

Tobio nodded, purpose driving him forward. His fingertips buzzed and buzzed and buzzed. He was going to be able to help again. He had been careful with the right person. 

Kindaichi sat down and Tobio knelt in front of him instantly, untying his laces, pulling on the heel of his shoe, fingertips tingling even more. He wondered if he put them to the floor if they would make a sound. When he slipped off Kindaichi's sock, he slid his hands gently over Kindaichi's ankle, down over the top of his foot. All the tight, hot buzzing seeped into the tendons, the connective tissue, the muscle. Tobio felt it all leave his fingers and flopped back to sit hard on the floor. 

Under the fluorescent light of the gym, a thin bright webbing of gold spread across Kindaichi's ankle and quickly seeped deep into his skin.

"Move out of the way, Tobio-chan," said Oikawa-san tightly, pushing him to the side. "You don't even know what you're looking for."

Oikawa-san picked up Kindaichi's foot to rest it on his bent knee. Coach jogged up behind him and knelt down, too. Oikawa-san prodded Kindaichi's ankle. "Does this hurt, Kindaichi-kun?"

Kindaichi blinked. "I. No."

"Ah," Oikawa-san said. He prodded the meat in the arch of his foot. "This?"

"No."

"This? What about here?"

"No," Kindaichi said, a surprised smile appearing on his face. "No, none— none of it hurts. Wow."

Oikawa-san stood up with Coach, whose face looked just as surprised. "Kindaichi-kun,” Oikawa-san said, “you must be present at every game from now on! You are unquestionably lucky!"

Tobio looked up at Iwaizumi-san. Iwaizumi-san nodded. Tobio closed his eyes.

—

_The thunk of the heavy plate hitting the table woke him._

_Tobio’s breath, hitched and caught somewhere between a deep sleep and a restless dream, coughed out of him unpleasantly. She didn’t speak to him right away, so he knew she was upset again. She had made his favorite curry. The lead in Tobio’s body was close to dragging him back at any moment. He picked up a spoon in an effort to stay awake through sheer force of will and the presence of food._

_“I’m leaving for two weeks on business,” she said. “Sugimoto-san will check on you.”_

_Tobio knew Sugimoto-san wouldn’t come by. Tobio never said any different. This was not a business trip. She would go back to the last place they lived. She would answer to things from before. Tobio was grateful he never quite knew why they moved. Guilt stirred in his sternum at thinking he might be the reason next time._

_“Well?” she said, lips pressed firm together against the red heat of tears along her cheeks._

_Tobio swallowed. “Thank you, Mama. I’ll finish it all.”_

—

He got more opportunities over the next few weeks.

Little things happened. People bumped into each other and Tobio would glance to Iwaizumi-san, hurry nearby to brush fingers over their shoulders before he left to sit out and watch Oikawa's serves. Someone cut themselves on the metal clasps and Tobio ("ugh, such gross, morbid curiosity, Tobio-chan") padded a thumb next to the wound, which sealed quickly. He started hearing his teammates talk about how strange he was in hushed whispers, how obsessed he was when people got hurt, but he was always careful. No one actually thought he was doing what he was really doing, they just thought he was weird. Good at volleyball, terrible at being normal. 

Nothing, really, had changed.

Only Oikawa-san seemed increasingly cold. As Tobio learned better volleyball technique (and kept helping little things on the side when he could), Oikawa-san kept getting more and more resistant to wanting Tobio around. He never answered Tobio's entreaties to learn the jump serve with anything but "no," and it wasn't ever just a "no," he always had more things to say.

"You do realize this is the thirty-seventh time I've told you 'no' this week, hmm?"

Tobio hadn't been counting. "I want to be—" 

"Absolutely _not_!" Oikawa-san said, hitting the ball exactly where he wanted it to go by the look on his face.

But Oikawa-san hadn’t landed the right way. He sucked in a quick breath that Tobio noticed. Oikawa-san's knee bent to lift his foot and lower it and his lip curled at the motion.

Tobio stiffened. He looked around the gym. Iwaizumi-san wasn't there. He twitched his fingers, to check them. They felt quiet. 

"Oikawa-san—"

"Go away, Tobio-chan." 

Maybe if he walked a little closer. "Oika—"

" _No_ , you little brat! Don't _touch_ me," Oikawa-san spit. "Just leave!"

Tobio hesitated. He hesitated and Oikawa-san picked up another volleyball, bounced it hard against the gym floor, and served it again, to nearly the same spot. This time, he landed solid on the floor.

Tobio left.

—

It didn't get better. 

Since Oikawa-san would not teach him, Tobio watched. He watched Oikawa-san work with the others and watched him serve. He knew he was learning by watching and practicing on his own, but not as much, not as fast. No one seemed to stay later than Oikawa-san at the gym to practice. Sometimes Iwaizumi-san would stay, too. Tobio wanted to stay that late, but dinner was his curfew and even though she wasn't always there, his mother was strict about it. She'd know. 

Oikawa-san worked very hard. His stumble did not improve.

Tobio didn't know who else noticed, but he did. More than with Iwaizumi-san or Kindaichi or the others, Tobio wanted to help. He wanted to mend whatever it was. 

One day, Oikawa-san came to practice with a brace, and something in Tobio ached to see it there. He pressed his fingers into the volleyball he held. They were flat, normal, still. He didn't feel anything at all. 

—

“How has this been, Kageyama?” Iwaizumi-san said. “You been good?”

Tobio hummed, nodding. He poked the straw through the box of milk Iwaizumi-san bought him. Tobio had wanted to talk to him, which is why he sought him out at lunch time. Iwaizumi-san, too, must have felt like he needed to check in with Tobio, because this was only the second time he’d agreed to speak about this directly. Most of the time, Tobio just had his looks to go by, both before and after.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi-san said, punching buttons. He kicked the bottom corner of the machine, and a soda can rolled out. He laughed, pleased, standing up from his crouch. The can cracked open with a fresh, bright pop. “Not too tired?”

“No,” Tobio said. This was not true. 

“Good,” said Iwaizumi-san, leading them over to the shade. “What’s on your mind, Kageyama?”

Tobio leaned against the trunk of the tree. He looked at the ground and wanted to sit. He was tired. Tobio felt tired now even on days there wasn’t practice, even on days where he kept to himself. His mother scolded him when he fell asleep at the kitchen table. Tobio fell asleep in class. The exhaustion would have worried him if he didn’t also feel somehow more powerful, important. For once, Tobio imagined he was doing something useful that wasn’t just volleyball. 

Volleyball brought him to his current concern. Tobio chewed on the straw for his milk box while Iwaizumi-san drank deep. “Ah, Iwaizumi-san, I. I’ve. Oikawa-san…”

Iwaizumi-san paused, swallowed.

“Don’t bother with him,” Iwaizumi-san said, wiping his mouth. “You can’t fix his personality. That’s been rotten since birth.”

Tobio frowned at Iwaizumi-san’s feet. He wanted to be brave. “And—his knee?” 

“You’ve noticed that, too?” Iwaizumi-san said lightly. His feet moved close enough so he could clap a hand on Tobio’s shoulder and steer them back toward the building, toward Tobio’s classroom. “Dramatics, Kageyama.” 

Tobio didn’t think so.

“He’s a dumbass,” Iwaizumi-san continued. His fingers squeezed Tobio before pulling away. “He'll be alright. Just keep practicing and asking. He’ll come around soon enough.”

—

After that, Tobio waited. He had a theory.

A second-year blocker jammed his finger, and Tobio's whole hand instantly buzzed, buzzed, buzzed. Now was his chance. He jogged over to the blocker, where Oikawa-san was already inspecting their hand. Tobio scooted over, pretending to peer close.

Oikawa-san's nose crinkled. "Why are you so obsessed with injuries, Tobio-chan? Taking notes for later?"

"Leave him alone, Oikawa," said Iwaizumi-san. He looked at Tobio, which was Tobio's signal. "It's harmless."

"It's creepy," Oikawa-san said. Tobio did not want to be creepy. Tobio was still going to try something anyway.

He did not check with Iwaizumi-san. He knelt down next to his senpai's feet, paused to take in what he was about to do. Tobio tapped his fingertips together a few times. The buzzing wasn't as strong, but it was still there. Oikawa-san was still wearing the brace. Tobio was going to try.

He brushed his humming, sparking fingertips over Oikawa-san's thigh, over the knee brace, and down to his calf. 

"Eugh!" Oikawa-san yelled, jumping away. "Why did you _touch_ me?" 

Tobio's fingers sprung back, too, burned. They buzzed all the more. Not a single bit had gone to Oikawa-san. 

"I — I'm sorry," he said, and went back to the bench to watch and think. 

From next to the net, Iwaizumi-san frowned.

—

_His mother was tired when she returned. Tobio had made dinner: miso, rice, gyudon. He picked up dorayaki from the store on his way home. He poured them both handsome cups of her best green tea._

_She kissed his forehead before they ate. Tobio took his breath in even measures._

_“Mama?” he started._

_“Mm?”_

_“Can I do it on purpose?”_

_She paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “Tobio,” she said, a warning. An end._

_He bit his lip._

_“If I — if I wanted to—”_

_“Tobio, enough,” she said. “Eat the food you made us, and let your mother rest.”_

_Tobio curled his toes underneath him and lifted more gyudon to his mouth. He’d added too much sugar and it sat wrong on his tongue. He knew better than to say anything else. He knew better._

_“Mama, there’s this person,” he said in a rush, “they’re on the team, and I—”_

_A hard slap stung his cheek._

_“Enough!” she said._

_Tobio’s fingers were at his cheek before he realized. She gasped, and sat back. When he looked at her, she was crying._

_“Tobio, please. Stop.” She covered her face with her hand. “Stop, Tobio. Enough.”_

_Tobio knelt at the table, unsure in his skin, if he should leave or sit. Words didn’t leave his lips. He looked at his mother and felt more than he was able to name. The food steamed gently, untouched. She cried and cried and cried._

—

It was late. Tobio had just practiced tossing with his other first-years and it had been horrible. He didn't want to change with them to go home. He waited in the bathroom until he knew they had gone. Someone had bruised an elbow and Tobio had kept his fingers to himself. They buzzed for almost an hour, ruined all his tosses. He was sitting on the locker room bench now, staring at them. He knew if he could just get control, he could make his hands do what he wanted them to do. He just had to be more careful.

"Kageyama," came a voice.

Tobio turned around to see Iwaizumi-san and Oikawa-san approaching. Iwaizumi-san was hovering close to Oikawa-san, whose gait was off, like it had been earlier that week, like it had been at practice. 

Instantly, Tobio knew what this was for. 

Oikawa-san started laughing. "Your face! Such betrayal. Of course he told me, Tobio-chan," Oikawa-san said, something in his eyes setting Tobio's shoulders higher. "Our ace sprains his wrist and it heals in a few days? A first-year's ankle twists and bends itself back together? Scrapes close and bruises fade faster around you. No one stays hurt. What an odd phenomenon, right, Tobio-chan? Something unnatural."

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi-san said, dark.

"I'm not saying anything you haven’t said yourself, Iwa-chan," Oikawa-san sniffed, falling like dust on the bench between the lockers. 

"Yeah, but you're saying it like a jerk."

"So mean."

Tobio was frozen. _I'm not saying anything you haven’t said yourself._ His chest burned with hurt. 

Be careful, always be careful. He had not been careful enough.

Oikawa-san looked at him for a while, his smile there and then fading, and then fading more. Tobio watched his face fall into something he'd never seen, something like fear, like anticipation. 

Oikawa-san's fingers hovered over the black brace around his knee. "Can you fix it?" he asked, and his voice was full and quiet. 

Tobio felt the muscles in his chest tighten like his shoulders. He pushed his fingertips against the meat of his thumbs. More than anything else now he wanted that feeling, the tingling, the buzzing. 

It wasn't there.

Tobio looked at Iwaizumi-san.

Iwaizumi-san closed his eyes.

Tobio stood. "I can try," he told Oikawa-san, who nodded, quick, and slipped the brace off his knee. Tobio stepped over the bench to face Oikawa. He knelt. He reached his fingers forward to Oikawa-san's knee, which felt warm like a fever.

" _Come on_ ," he whispered to himself, a plea. 

He placed his left thumb right below the round bone, wrapped his fingers gently around to the soft underside, felt the ruined tendons and burning muscle. He concentrated. He placed his right fingers along the inside of Oikawa-san’s knee. Very slowly, Tobio leaned down, down. His face was so close to Oikawa-san’s knee, he could feel the heat on his nose. He closed his eyes. They waited.

They waited.

After long moments, Tobio swayed forward, his forehead coming to rest against his thumb. He wanted to dig his nails into Oikawa-san’s skin. He wanted to kiss Oikawa-san’s brace. He wanted to cry.

He dropped his hands. He shut his eyes.

"It's old, isn't it?" he asked.

There was no response.

"It's very old. It's been injured for a long time." Tobio did not want to open his eyes. 

"What use are you?!" Oikawa-san exploded and Tobio flinched away. "What good is this if it can't help here, too? What is the _point_ of you if you can't even help?"

"Oikawa, enough!" Iwaizumi-san shouted, but Tobio knew, Oikawa-san was right. 

"Stay away from me, from all of us!" Oikawa-san said, shoving on his brace. "Don't—don't _ever_ —"

" _Shut up_ , Oikawa!" Iwaizumi-san roared.

"I'm. I'm—" Tobio said, gathering his clothes, his shoes. He didn't want to be there anymore. Oikawa-san was right. What good was he, if he couldn't help even this?

"Kageyama," Iwaizumi-san started, but Tobio had already started out of the lockers. Tobio wouldn't try this again. 

—

Years later, draped in black and orange, Tobio sees Oikawa walk into the gym.

His fingers start to buzz.


End file.
